The Time Has Come
by Murgatroyd
Summary: Troy Dennison always wanted to be a trainer, but somehow, it never happened. Now he's in college, and his life is about to get interesting... [DISCONTINUED]


Standard disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon, or Poketto Monsutaa. I know that, and you know that. This work was not done for profit, and I do not have any significant monetary assets anyway, so litigation would be a waste of your time and money, as well as mine.  
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The Time Has Come  
Prologue  
  
Ever since I was a little kid, I had wanted to be a pokémon trainer. I read about it, daydreamed about it, even wrote stories about it. But somehow it never happened. Whenever I was about to start, something happened to interfere.  
  
For my tenth birthday, my parents had planned to take me to Professor Cypress, so I could start my journey. I had everything planned. I was going to start with a Bellsprout (the other choices were Geodude and Pidgey). I would then go north to Cerulean City, where (I thought) I could easily win at the water gym with my grass type. Then I would head west to Pewter City, where, again, I would win easily. After that, I would catch a lot of wild pokémon, beat all the other gyms, and win at the League. In other words, my plans matched those of about one third of my peers (The other two thirds wanted Pidgey, and would go west to Celadon, or wanted Geodude, and would go south to Vermillion. After that, everyone planned to beat all the gyms and go on to the League). My plans were ruined when, the day before my birthday, I fell out of a tree I was climbing. I spent my birthday in the hospital, and the next few months with my leg in a cast. My parents said I obviously wasn't ready for the responsibility of being a trainer, and decided I should wait a year before starting my journey.  
  
On my eleventh birthday, we set out to Professor Cypress's lab, so I could start my journey. No one knows how a wild Tauros came to be in the middle of Saffron City, but it was there. We crashed into it. Our car was totaled, and I spent another birthday in the emergency room, this time with a broken arm. My parents, for reasons I still do not understand, decided I should wait yet another year before starting. As you probably guessed, I was more than a little upset. Why are you doing this? I screamed at my parents. It wasn't my fault this time! Now I'll be TWO WHOLE YEARS behind my friends! This did nothing to convince them to change their minds. That year, I spent a lot of time at the library, hoping that if I read enough, I wouldn't be hopelessly far behind when I finally got started.  
  
Three days before my twelfth birthday, we got a call from Professor Cypress's assistant. The professor was in the hospital with pneumonia. Needless to say, my appointment was canceled. Her recovery was long and drawn out, and shortly before my thirteenth birthday, she retired. It was almost as if something was trying to tell me that I was not meant to become a trainer. At least, that's what my parents thought. Whenever I brought up the subject of starting my journey, my mother would remind me of what had happened the first three times, and say It might be better if you didn't. Someone might get seriously hurt this time. She was a bit superstitious. My father would say, Aren't you getting a bit old for this? Most of your friends have already given up. Why don't you just finish school, go to college, and get a job at Silph like me? Or isn't that good enough for you?   
  
Throughout my teen years, I spent most of my free time at the library, reading about pokémon. I read scientific papers, ancient legends, biographies of the great Pokémon Masters, and anything else related to the subject. I also read books on strategy and tactics, trying to see how these might be applied to pokémon battles. I became the undisputed authority on pokémon at my school. I knew more about them than any of my friends or teachers. As I had memorized the official Pokémon League rules, I was often asked to judge matches between visiting trainers. This let me see how various training styles worked in practice. After each match, I would give both trainers advice on how they could improve their training. When the trainers found out that I had never been a trainer myself, they invariably asked why not. I never had a satisfactory answer for them.  
  
So there I was, Troy Dennison, a freshman at Saffron University, double majoring in mathematics and Pokémon Studies, when everything changed. Late one night in early spring, I was biking home after a long session at the library studying for a linear algebra test. I was not particularly looking forward to spending the night in my rattata-infested dorm. I was idly pondering how to build a better rattata trap, when I suddenly got a strong feeling that I needed to be somewhere. A second later, I felt a tremendous lurch, and the campus around me vanished.


End file.
